


Hunt

by ADarlingWrites



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Face-Sitting, Inappropriate Erections, Loss of Virginity, Major Character Injury, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-05-18 23:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADarlingWrites/pseuds/ADarlingWrites
Summary: The Huntress loves hunting nervous squirrels masquerading as leaders of wolf-packs. Dwight Fairfield is one; a nervous leader with fragile courage. She is predator, he is prey, and she enjoys the hunt.But when the heat of lust sears the Survivor's flesh, and the call to mate beckons The Huntress, the hunt gets more interesting. And when The Entity catches on, the danger magnifies.





	1. Playing Favorites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Huntress has a favorite kind of prey.

Cries of agony echoed through the Red Forest, accompanied by sound of skin and bone splitting wetly. Dwight Fairfield, in the middle of making repairs to a generator, winced and shuddered to himself, trying to pace his breathing as the other survivor's cry rang in his ears.

The nervous yet somewhat effective leader is certain that it belonged to Meg.

Jake died recently, too far from everyone to get help on time, and Claudette's screams had a different tone to them, so even before spotting the fallen Survivor's bloody aura, it leaves Dwight the conclusion that the Killer caught Meg. Though sadistic The Entity was, It seemed to be fond of fair play, or whatever It deems "fair". Survivors can spot their fallen comrades in the distance as a bloody aura in their vision; perhaps this is an effect of being connected to the Bloodweb? Casting contemplative thoughts aside, Dwight crouched and scooted his way around the place, hoping to find the opportunity to come to Meg's rescue before time runs out.

The bespectacled fellow gulped, thinking to himself that things must be going bad if Meg, the swiftest of them all, failed to outrun the killer. Scanning the area, he can faintly see her being carried over the killer's shoulder, struggling to break free. It seems the Killer is intent on carrying her to the basement. It would be a risky decision to follow someone there; nevertheless, a good leader never abandons his team.

As Dwight approached the basement, there it was; that unmistakable humming. The somber melody of a lullaby echoes through the cold forest air; Dwight came to the realization that they were facing The Huntress. The former dead-end employee, now one of The Entity's playthings, realized that this monster's ranged attack with her hatchets might've slowed Meg down enough for a capture; the perfect counter for a Survivor who could normally outrun most killers.

Watching his step, Dwight reached Meg, the latter's eyes pleading for help. Straining, he lifts her by the armpits, the rusty hook slowly leaving her body, and she lands with a soft thud. Sensing that her quarry has gone free, The Huntress' head jolted to their direction, her footsteps heavy as her bare feet crunched at the twigs and leaves beneath her. Dwight is certain Claudette can find Meg later and patch her up, but for now, he needs to evade the killer and go back to the generator.

The female with bright hair began limping away to safety. Though slightly irritated at her quarry getting away, Anna, the feared Huntress, let her attention shift to the male survivor; she can sense his fear from where she stands and she had caught a whiff of his scent before.

In fact, Anna could sense all the Survivors' fear, and observed how they utilized it.

The bright-haired one that just got away tends to channel her terror into fueling her drive to run. Typical prey, whose first instinct is to run at the sight of danger. The male with darker skin reminded her of lone wolves due to his solitary nature; the kind who brushes off his terror and any injuries received, relying on no one else but himself. This kind of prey presents a challenge, because they will do anything to survive, but they made hunting more exciting. Anna made sure to take the lone wolf out first due to the aforementioned traits he had, and to exploit the fact that he tends to get separated from the others. Another, a darker-skinned female, is gentle and was certainly softer than any of them, yet the bravest, willing to sink her steady fingers in her comrades' splayed bones to help them. Anna is perplexed by the altruism, yet found this somewhat admirable; rarely do you see prey in the wild nursing another of its kind back to health while being hunted by a predator.

This one, the male with dark hair, pale skin and lanky bones is the survivor who masks his fear with assertiveness, or blends to the shadows as soon as terror strikes. Today, it seems that this squirrelly fellow decided to play the role of a leader. To a trained huntress like Anna though, she can see through his bold facade. Cornered animals, pumped with adrenaline and in a state of fight-or-flight, tend to display the same response, from a nervous little squirrel to the Alpha of a wolf-pack.

And from Anna's experience, they tend to cry the loudest when they meet the sharp end of her axe.

Prey like Dwight Fairfield is Anna's favorite.


	2. Thrill of the Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The squirrel is craftier than once thought.

How Dwight missed The Huntress closing in eluded him; though he can hear her humming getting louder, there was no Stain, no bright patch of red light that engulfs Survivors when the killer is close to their vicinity. So when the sharp end of her axe met with his left shoulder, Dwight let out a blood-curdling cry from both the pain and surprise. The crows that pecked at the surrounding grass flew away panic-stricken, alerting other Survivors of their whereabouts.

The lanky Survivor stumbled forward, mind hazy with terror and adrenaline as he bolted to safety. Anna's lips curled upwards, seeing that the squirrel is making the same mistake the bright-haired girl did when it was her turn to be hunted.

However, it seems Anna underestimated this little squirrel's craftiness.

Pursuing the scrawny male, Anna charged forward and was ready to swing her hatchet when he pulls a pallet down and stuns her. Though Anna was quick to shrug off the disorientation, when she looked up, the little squirrel is gone.

The Huntress' lullaby had a grating tone from then on. Begrudging respect is a new feeling she had for the sly squirrel, however, crafty as he may be, he can't drag this hunt further for long, not in his injured state. Following the trail of blood on the forest floor, it led the ferocious Huntress to a locker with scratches all over, presumably occupied by her prey. Forcefully, she pulls it open, only to see nothing inside. The Huntress sighs and takes the opportunity to replenish her supply of hatchets instead.

The distinct sound of a generator being repaired made her head jolt towards the direction it came from. Exit gates were opening as well. Nostrils flaring, Anna wanted to make at least one more offering to The Entity before this trial ends.

Perhaps, if she's good enough, The Entity will allow her to have a daughter. All she wanted was a little one who will not die so soon; someone who will call her _mamochka_ as she did with her own mother.

With a newfound resolve, Anna continues to hunt.

Dwight wiped the sweat from his forehead as he made the last repairs on the last generators; he needs a plan to escape, fast. Claudette and Meg are probably in the process of opening a gate, but which one? Composing himself, he decides to pursue the nearest one, regardless of whether the other two were there or not. Walking with a limp is a challenging handicap, moreover, trying to stay quiet in his current state is difficult; at this point, Dwight wished that he had Jake's iron will. Every movement hurt, and his glasses slipping down his nose from the blood and sweat didn't help; pained sighs and groans escaped his lips, ensuring that a lurking killer nearby will find him. As if on cue, he felt all the hairs on his back sticking up, and bright, red light shines upon him.

It was the Stain.

Not daring to look back, Dwight did his best to sprint, his prior injuries resulting to him limping all the way through, exit in sight. Though the bespectacled, lanky Survivor managed to outwit The Huntress earlier, this time, it was her turn to dish out some wiles. Opening the gates usually took a while; knowing that the little squirrel is hell-bent on reaching it, she changed her route, giving him a false notion of security. Once her prey thought that he had escaped her warpath, Anna will strike.

Upon discovering that the other two Survivors went for the other exit, Dwight cursed to himself as he strained to open the gate he found, exerting himself and huffing. Not a while longer all the hairs on his back begun to stand again and The Huntress' heartbeat pounds in his head. Aborting his original plan, Dwight decided that slinking around to find the other exit might bring up his chances of surviving. However, he needed to move as quickly as possible before the gate closes. Before he can even formulate a plan to get there on time, a hatchet barely misses him, landing to the wall next to him.

Scrambling to safety, Dwight can feel his lungs giving out and blood loss making his vision spotty. Anna gives in to chase, knowing full well that it will lead this little squirrel to his own demise. As Dwight ran, he is approaching the pallet he pulled down earlier, and unthinking from the panic, he vaults over it, only for the Huntress to catch him as he attempted to slide.

In the distance, the gate Claudette and Meg opened began to close.

This is it. This is how the trial will end for Dwight Fairfield; bloody, beaten and abandoned.

Or so he thought, until he realized that he can still feel Claudette's presence. Whether this was due to the Bloodweb, Dwight wasn't sure, but his mind is still reeling from the pain for him to ponder on it. He felt himself being lifted and brought over a shoulder. Limply, he dangled over The Huntress' shoulder, and at one point, by accident, his hand brushed against her rear, leaving a bloody handprint on her sarafan.

Being hauled by a killer to be hooked wasn't the best time to reminisce about blushing around the campfire while Feng and Ace made fun of him when they noticed that Dwight at some point, might have looked at The Huntress too long outside of survival reasons that his gaze turned... appreciative. This led to the group finding out that he had no prior sexual experience.

Perhaps reminiscing about better times before suffering from a gruelling death is a preferable alternative to thinking of the pain.

Anna is on the way to hang the squirrelly man on a hook when she felt his hand brush against her as he swayed around limply in her shoulders; she stopped, readjusting the man slung over her shoulders, his thigh grazing her breast through her sarafan, and her forearm thumping like a steel bar against his lower rear. That's when she heard him whimper, and a foreign protrusion poked against her shoulder. Hurriedly, she lets him slide down, his body making more contact with hers, before lifting him by the armpits and hanging him on a hook.

Dwight's blood-curdling cries filled the quiet forest air once more; his glasses were slipping from his face as he looked down and saw that his erection is beginning to tent through his trousers. Embarrassed and in pain, he wishes that this trial will be soon over; it was far from his first time to die on a hook and he remembers the pain of being taken by The Entity, but that was preferable to his current predicament.

Just when the Survivor thought that things couldn't get any worse than this, he dared to look at the Huntress who is, to his terror, staring straight at his crotch.

As far as everyone knows, The Huntress is a solitary woman confined deep within the Russian woods, and Dwight concluded that she must not have seen a lot of men displaying sexual interest, because she probably killed them before any of them could. He tries to make himself go soft by shifting back his attention to the pain, or think of other happier moments in-between trials, but the adrenaline in his veins had other ideas and the stump of flesh in loins remained engorged with blood.

Apprehensively, Anna reaches forward to touch it, curious of why seeing it brings heat pooling in her loins; she had seen this behavior on animals when their body wants to mate, but not on humans; not until she saw two of the Survivors rutting like animals when they weren't in a trial. Even so, she didn't see a bulge like this squirrelly one has right at the moment, and it wasn't the squirrelly one doing it with the bright-haired female.

"Plea-please no," Dwight managed to croak out. "Enough. Don't look, or touch. You've-"

Dwight struggles to find the words as The Entity began to choke him.

"-hurt me enough."

Seeing how The Huntress put her hand down, Dwight stopped struggling, allowing The Entity's claws to penetrate his skin with burning pain, taking his limp body to the sky as an offering.

Anna couldn't help but look up, dark eyes following his form.

Soon enough, Dwight awakened near the campfire, breaking in a sweat as the events of the last trial floods back to him. Claudette is looming over him with concerned eyes.

Dwight Fairfield lives again. So does the others when they die.

But piquing a killer's desire to mate, The Huntress of all killers, is something not everyone can do.


	3. Pet Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an encounter in the forest, the Huntress teaches Dwight a new word from her mother tongue.

Awakening with a cold sweat, Dwight found himself curled in a fetal position near the campfire, concerned faces surrounding him. After Meg gave her apologies for not going back for him and checking on Jake, the nervous leader stood up from the campfire, dusted his filthy slacks, and started to wander about.

During the moments between trials when the Survivors gathered around, Dwight usually sat with the others, exchanging stories about his harrowing experiences in high school, and his tendency to get stuck in dead-end jobs. After the last trial, however, he was acting unlike his usual self; though nervous in social situations, he is a natural extrovert, being able to bring people together with his awkward charm. However, this time he prefers solitude.

Being the highly empathic individual that she is, Claudette is the first to notice. Though normally shy, reserved and avoidant of socialization outside of internet forums, her concern for fellow Survivors outweigh it, and what she witnessed moments before Dwight was taken magnified her worry.

The botanist spotted Dwight sitting on the edge of the clearing, near the thick undergrowth, and seems to be contemplating something. Thoughtfully, Claudette decided that she will do her best not to startle him, and speak in a gentle tone.

"Dwight?” Claudette calls out, making the other bespectacled survivor turn to her. Dwight motions her to sit next to him, wry smile on his face. "Hi,” she continues, sitting beside him. "I'm sorry. I tried to come back to get you, but when I got there, it was too late.” Eyes widening, he turns to her. "No it's- it happens,” Dwight replies, rubbing his nape with rough palms. "Did you see- I mean, how close were you when I got taken?”

Bringing her hand to her mouth in an apologetic manner, Claudette turns away. "Very close. I saw what the Huntress was trying to- yeah.”

Awkward silence filled the air.

"Are you going to be fine?”

The nervous leader turned to Claudette. "I will be,” he replied, trying his best to smile just to ease her concern. It had little effect. Shaking the dust off of his slacks, Dwight rose, walking deeper into the forest. "I-I'll be back, don't worry about me!”

Claudette could only watch as he disappeared into the thickness of the forest.

Though he found comfort in being surrounded by other people in The Entity's unforgiving realms, Dwight couldn't bear to face anyone at the moment, especially Claudette, who saw the entire ordeal. Marching on, he is unsure of why he is leaving the safety of the campfire. Occasionally, he and the other Survivors could see Killers watching them from a distance, stalking them before the next trial begins; the possibility of running into one increases the more he distanced himself from the others. Is it even possible for him to get lost in the forest?

Jake once found himself deep in the forest, yet the moment he wished to return to the campfire's warmth, he found it in just a few moments, as if he never strayed so far. Perhaps this is the Entity's way to keep them all trapped? Dwight was beginning to question everything about the warped, anachronistic reality they are in when he sees a figure in the distance, through the gloom. Though broad-shouldered and sturdy, it was still feminine. He also registers the familiar lullaby echoing in the forest air.

Dwight stumbled backwards upon realizing who it was.

The resulting crash from his clumsiness alerted The Huntress to his direction, head turning abruptly and clutching her axe tighter. In between trials, the Huntress roams the forests in search for ways to satiate her bloodlust while waiting for the next opportunity to hunt other humans. Though she had come across a few Survivors that had wandered into the woods, The Entity prevents her from harming them in this realm, thick black smoke rising whenever they try to inflict pain.

Recognizing who the Survivor was, The Huntress tilts her head. It is the crafty squirrel. The memory of his antics made her mutter something. " _Belochka_.” Striding confidently with her hatchet still in hand, it was enough to send the little man kicking and crawling backward. Her vocabulary rusty and only having learned a little English from her fellow killers, Anna tries to find the words to let the little man know that she doesn't intend to hurt him, at least, for now.

"No hook," she tells him, almost whispering, and her Russian accent as thick as the woods she half-remembers growing up in. "No need for little man to run.”

Jaw dropping to the forest floor, Dwight couldn't believe that a Killer was capable of speech. All he ever heard were moans, grunts, heavy breathing, and in The Huntress' case, her lullaby. "O-okay. You can- can you understand me?”

The Huntress tilts her head to the side once more. " _Da_.” Dwight tries his hardest to remember the basic Russian he learned in high school in an attempt to get close to the cute exchange student from Moscow. "Oh, that's a yes.” Though still thoroughly nervous, he settles on the forest floor slightly more comfortably, leaves clinging to his slacks. The Huntress proceeds to sit on her haunches, setting her axe within arm's reach. Not wanting to provoke The Huntress' anger, Dwight clears his throat and extends his hand shakily, his inner thoughts reprimanding him and calling him insane for trying to make nice with a Killer. _This_ Killer too, the one that openly eyed his crotch as he choked.

Anna just stared quietly at the little squirrel's hand, confused. "It's how we say hello,” he said. Unsure of what to do, Anna aligns her hand with his, and holds it there. Toned muscles tense when the squirrelly little man holds her hand, and she looks down to see her rough, calloused hands almost dwarfing his bony fingers. Due to his nail-biting habit, Dwight's fingernails are short and nubby with crusted dirt underneath, whereas Anna's are slightly grown longer, almost sharp and encrusted with dried blood. The brush of his skin against hers, although minimal, sent a jolt down The Huntress' spine. When the little squirrel gave it a firm shake then withdrew, she found herself looking for the sensation, touch-starved and solitary all her life.

"My name is Dwight,” the squirrel introduces himself. "I uh, anyway before I got here-”

Like an actual squirrel, he began to chatter. The Huntress could only tilt her head in both amusement and frustration; the frustration coming from the fact that she couldn't understand half of what he's saying. Far from stupid The Huntress was, but the language barrier is quite the challenge.

"You talk too fast, and sound like real _belochka_ ,” she interrupts. "I cannot keep up.”

"O-oh. Shit. Sorry,” Dwight mumbles, face suddenly flushed. Was he getting flustered in front of a killer, of all people? "Let's start over. I'm Dwight. I used to get paid to bring people pizza- _food_ ,” he corrected himself, realizing that Anna probably isn't familiar with pizza. "Then I worked as a manager for a store. You know, where people would get stuff in exchange for money- anyway,” he stammers, cutting himself off before he rambles again. "What's your name?”

"Anna.”

The Huntress doesn't continue speaking after that, tense silence filling the air. Dwight looks down on the dirt between them, then up, eyes stopping on The Huntress' thighs, thick and straining against the fabric of her sarafan, then to her waist, noticing how the utility belt hugs against her body snugly, then to her breasts, heaving and warm, then to her face-

"Wait, she's staring straight at me,” Dwight thought to himself.

In an attempt to dispel the suddenly thick tension between them, the survivor broke eye contact and coughed, mind trying to come up with anything that can make the encounter a little less terrifying and awkward. Dwight remembers Anna calling him something.

"That word you used to call me earlier, what does that mean?”

Anna's lip curled into a smile. It wasn't unkind, but it wasn't a heartwarming one either; the best word to describe what she felt at the moment is 'amused'. "You mean _belochka_?”

Dwight simply nodded in response, his thick glasses sliding off the bridge of his nose ever so slightly. Blood rushed to his ears when Anna chuckled and pressed her palms on his thighs, face drawing near. "Small creature, easily scared. Clever, like you.” A lightbulb went off in Dwight's head, realizing what kind of animal Anna is describing. "You mean a squirrel? A small animal that climbs trees and eats nuts?”

Anna nods. Dwight found himself laughing self-deprecatingly. "Ahh, yeah, I guess- wait, did she just give me a pet name?” Dwight says out loud, instead of keeping the thought to himself like how he planned to.

The concept foreign to her, Anna tilts her head once more. "Pet?”

"A pet! You know, finding a creature and keeping it, taking care of it, and it keeping you company or even protecting you,” Dwight explains, finding it odd that she doesn't know about keeping pets, considering that living in the Russian forest must have gotten lonely. "Did you ever keep one?” Dwight prods, face still a flushed mess because of how close The Huntress is.

"No.”

In disbelief, the bespectacled survivor could only blink at her. "Did you ever have any company at all, in your life?”

Slowly pulling back, Anna went back to sitting on her haunches, head low. "Mother. Then daughters.” A pause, then she stands up. "All gone now.”

Heart sinking, Dwight came to the realization that some of the killers they face still have a shred of humanity left in them. Tentatively, he touches Anna's forearm from behind, only for her to flinch and snap towards his direction, axe gone from the ground and clutched in her arms, knuckles turning white from her grip. Instincts kicking in, Dwight backs away, his back hitting a tree and the impact causing a few leaves to rustle.

"I’m sorry! I’ll just go,” Dwight mumbles, bracing himself on the tree, then running backward. He kept at it until his thighs burned, looking back to see her form fading in the gloom. In no time, as expected, he was back at the campfire.

Beads of sweat were rolling from his forehead, and his dirty-white, half-tucked shirt clung to his body, also soaked with sweat. Bill is the first to take notice of him. "Son, you alright?” Bill asks. "I’ve never seen someone that tired since Louis tried to outrun a Tank,” he continued, waxing nostalgic from his time battling hordes of undead before he awoken in this wretched place. Chuckling, Dwight bent over and rested his palms on his thighs. "Yeah, Bill, I’m fine. Just figured that I need a workout,” he lied, earning him a stifled laugh from Feng Min, who sat beside the old Vietnam veteran, content with poking the campfire with a stick.

"You saw the Russian bun, didn’t you?” she asks, the look of amusement plastered to her face. "How’d you know?”

"You have the same shade of pink on your face when I caught you staring at her ass when we hid together,” Min quips, mischievous as ever.

Letting out a groan, Dwight collapses near her, completely exhausted with both the running and the smaller girl’s teasing.


	4. Exceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Huntress extends an invitation.

As soon as Dwight slumped at the forest floor, the fog began to roll in. Feng Min was the first to stand up, grabbing a flashlight and a small chalk pouch as preparation. For such a small girl, she is very keen to take on Killers twice, hell, perhaps even thrice her size. Bill and Ace follow suit, rummaging around the camp site for supplies to take on the next trial.

Stepping up to the challenge is always preferable to being snatched by the fog all of a sudden, everyone learned. At least they had time to mentally and physically condition themselves before subjecting themselves to The Entity's endless game of cat and mouse.

The three were looking for a fourth Survivor when Dwight presents himself as their last teammate. Ace and Min looked at each other as Bill approached him. "Are you sure you're ready for this? You look out of shape, son," Bill expresses, smoke wafting to the younger Survivor's face as he took a long drag from his cigarette. Dwight coughed a few times before nodding. "Ah, sorry. Forgot that you're still out of breath.” Clearing the smoke with his hand, Dwight offers him a wry smile. “I can handle it.” Picking up a medkit, Bill motions to him. “Well, pick up some supplies and stop horseshitting around."

Horseshitting around they were, indeed, as there were two Survivors on the hook and only one of the generators is done. Tonight's trial had been unfortunate; Bill was in the middle of unhooking Ace, thinking that the Killer's off to chase another Survivor, when a hatchet came flying into his left shoulder. The impact takes his breath away and soon after, another one struck his back, sending him almost flying off the mound where the hook stood.

Though he managed to hide in tall grass before The Huntress can get him, Dwight foolishly ran over to help the old man, only to be spotted by her.

Anna had been in a foul mood and she is taking it out on the Survivors. How dare the little squirrel run away? She was only going to point him the way to her shack with her axe! Perhaps she frightened the little thing. Oh well. She can hunt another, what was the word? Pet. Yes.

Still, Dwight's doe-eyed look is still burned at the back of her mind. And now, here he is.

For the first time in her life, she hesitated.

The squirrel made a run for it and Anna gives in to the chase, smiling as she recalled his antics the last time they met in a trial. What clever trick would he have up his sleeve? How would he react to being cornered this time? She lost sight of him and sighed. Amused, she reaches to her side to ready another hatchet only to realize that she was out of them, so she trots to the nearest locker, intending to replenish her supply, only to find the little man hiding inside. She was disappointed in him for how predictable this move was, but her heart fluttered at the sight of him, regardless. Anna doesn’t know if this is good or not.

" _Belochka_."

Hearing the Huntress breathe anything other than her lullaby while in a trial sent an exciting shiver up Dwight's spine. As she hauled her to the nearest hook, however, the excitement was quickly replaced by terror. Kicking and squirming, Dwight felt a twinge of betrayal; she couldn't just call him by his pet name again and hurt him, couldn't she?

Trying his hardest not to feel like a puppy who got kicked in the face, the nervous leader looks away from her after his customary screams of pain subsided. Still, he couldn't hide the pain in his eyes.

Anna takes note of this. This was a different kind of pain, she can tell.

She half-remembers the same, pained look her mother gives her father whenever he decided to hunt alone, and Anna was so, so young when one winter, he never returned.

The forlorn look also reminds her of the ones her starving daughters gave her when she couldn’t bring anything home for them to eat, and the Huntress couldn’t do anything but weep as she watched them slowly wither away.

A pang of guilt shook Anna's body, and she hated it. She hated how her eyebrows would soften and her heart would sink to her stomach.

Lost in a sea of rarely felt emotions, she didn't notice the little rat coming for her with a flashlight. As Anna recovered from being momentarily blinded, the squirrel was gone. The old man in green had recovered from his injuries and had come to his aid while the rat blinded her. Positively enraged, Anna threw a hatchet in retaliation.

Everything went downhill from there for the Survivors.

It came to a point where everyone was hooked once, and two injured Survivors were separated from the flock.

The Huntress is confident now, having remembered that she threw that ebony offering in the fire before the hunt. She was swift to track them down, starting with the old man with spectacles. Anna idly thought that his weren't like her Dwight's, but shrugged the thought off as she focused on looking for the rat. If she wasn't too old or too obnoxious, Anna would've taken her as a daughter. Eventually, Feng Min's flashlight batteries ran out, and she's left unarmed and ready to be taken down. An axe went through her side, and soon enough, it goes through her skull, then her body.

This leaves the old man in green and her squirrel left. There was no stopping Anna now as she marched forward to find the last two Survivors.

Dwight and Bill were making the last repairs on the third generator when the lullaby began to get louder as The Huntress approached. It did nothing to calm Dwight's nerves, causing his hand to slip under a rusty gear, and the generator explodes at his face. The older man let out an exasperated curse as the heartbeat got louder. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Dwight chokes as their bodies sprang into action, both ready to run away. “It’s already here, son. Now, move your ass to the other direction!"

The two split to avoid double casualties. Dwight runs to the corn field as Bill receives a hatchet to his back. Adrenaline kicking in, he scans around to find a pallet he can use against her. The old war vet managed to narrowly avoid a second hatchet as he ducked behind one. However, the Huntress is skilled and sly; she moves to the other side, and the next hatchet hit as Bill slid over the pallet. Right there, she finished him off with no remorse.

One, two, and now three. Only the squirrel left.

Anna knew that the generator the two were working on was almost done, so her first instinct was to check if Dwight had come back to finish the job while she was distracted with the older man. But alas, he was nowhere to be seen. If it wasn't for the loud sound of him stumbling through a window twenty feet away, she wouldn't know that he was near.

Catching up to the squirrel, Anna hesitantly threw a hatchet at him. It struck his leg, and now he's limping through the corn field again, trying to lose her in the maze. In an even more unfortunate turn of events, Dwight trips on a chest, sending his glasses flying a few feet away. Anna finds the scratch marks and the Survivor it belonged to, palming through the dirt to find his spectacles.

Oh, it made her chuckle.

Delicately, she picks them up and drops it in his hands, her own ones clasping around them, and she notices the squirrel's face, painted with a bright shade of red. The Survivor puts his glasses back on, and she watches his lanky fingers slide it into place. When his dark eyes finally adjust to the clarity, they were wide with either terror or surprise. Both? Regardless, Anna is thrilled to have caught him.

"P-please," the squirrel mumbles as her hands cup his soft face. The tension is thick and suffocating. Dwight felt over-sensitive to her touch. Surprising him and even herself, she doesn't hurt him. "Pet," she whispers, resting her masked forehead against his. Dwight couldn’t believe the sight before him. “The Huntress? Nuzzling my face? Did the Doctor drive her insane? Am I insane for liking this? What is even going on?!” Dwight thinks to himself.

Anna drags Dwight’s limp body from the dirt and presses it against hers. She hoists him over her shoulder, yes, but the hand that normally gripped him with brutal strength is resting over his lower back with virtually no pressure. It was comforting, even. The bespectacled Survivor wonders if this is how she carried her children.

Gently, Anna drops him beside the nearly-finished generator. She motions at it with her axe. In disbelief, Dwight could only gape at her. Is she really making him an exception to her hunt?

"Do it, before I change my mind."

Hastily, Dwight complied, but with his heartbeat hammering in his ears, he can barely focus. Another misplaced gear sent the generator sputtering white-hot electricity at his face again. Alarmed, Anna went over and checked his face; with her hands on his face again, Dwight's skin turned into a deeper shade of red, spreading down his neck and chest. The Killer brushes off a few specks of dirt, and decides to give a little room as not to startle her little squirrel again.

When he was done, Anna hoists him over her shoulder once more, and Dwight made no effort to escape, enjoying the warmth her body emanated. By the Entity's claws, she's a furnace, and Dwight had far too many cold forest nights for him not to enjoy this. Her lullaby isn't as eerie as before and has a more soothing tone to it.

The Huntress drops this trial's last Survivor gently beside the open hatch, thick black fog rising from its mouth. She kneels beside him, and tilts his chin to give him a long look, thinking about the gesture her mother and father used to do. Then the unthinkable happens.

Dwight’s already owlish eyes grew wider when he feels Anna’s lips, scarred yet still soft, pressing against his.

Definitely inexperienced, Anna doesn't know what to do next, still brushing her lips against her squirrel’s and unmoving. Just when he thought he couldn’t surprise himself any more this trial, Dwight kisses her back, bony limbs finding its way around her neck. Dwight breaks the kiss to give her one on the jaw, just beneath her ear. Anna gasps at the new sensation that sent a jolt of lightning down her body, and holds the lanky man closer. The Survivor squeezes her and gives her one last, chaste kiss before pointing at the hatch. “I need to go, Anna.” 

All good things must come to an end. Nodding at the bespectacled man, her arms leave him. Before she truly let him go, she kneels beside him again and whispers to his ear.

"Meet me at the forest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! College is taking up most of my time so any personal projects I have are either on hold, or are progressing very slowly. Still, the good news is I've decided that I'm not abandoning this fanfic. The bad news is most of the I have to work from my phone and send the drafts through email to proofread and improve the chapter, and I think I've drafted more chapters than originally intended. So to my readers, thank you for your patience and I hope you guys will continue to look forward to new chapters!


	5. The Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prey seeks the predator.

Bill could not believe that Dwight survived, but he had seen closer calls than this one. It is Feng Min who went ballistic, dragging Dwight by his tie and asking him how the hell he survived that. A bad liar, Dwight tries to make up a story before giving up and telling her what really happened, minus a few details.

"This is bullshit! I can't believe she let you get away!" Min exclaims, throwing her arms over her head. "Hey, try to feel nice for him," Ace cuts in, his sly smirk ever present. "He's finally going to get laid, and in this hellhole too," the dashing old man continues, giving Dwight a suggestive look. All that Dwight could muster was a sigh as Feng Min's disbelieving anger turns into amusement. "Hey, maybe you can convince her not to kill us in exchange for some Dwight dick," she quipped, jabbing the embarrassed survivor's bony sides with her elbow.

"Alright, that's enough, both of you. Let me patch him up so he can rest," Claudette chimes in, carrying a med-kit with her. One downside of escaping the trial alive is retaining the pain and injuries received during the trial upon escape. For Dwight, it is still better than waking up with his heart still racing and feeling less human than the last time. Shaking, he sits on a log and takes his shirt off, his blood soaking the white fabric as it oozed from his chest and back.

The botanist began to administer her care, and Dwight tries to distract himself from the pain, whimpering through gritted teeth. The pathetic whimpers turned into something else when he recalls Anna kissing him, and him kissing back. Thinking that she hurt him, Claudette asks him if he’s fine, and he simply nods. He remembers her invitation to meet her in the forest and all the hairs on his body stood stiff; though still fearful of her, he wants to see her again without the threat of his head being lopped off by a swirling hatchet. Has he truly gone mad for wanting to touch Anna again when she frightens him to no end? Mind wandering into a daydream, he imagines her waiting for him in the forest with that predatory smile on her face, hands reaching for the zipper on his slacks and…

“Augh!”

Claudette’s hand slipped, tugging on the thread too tightly. She apologizes and Dwight merely nods. As soon as the gash the hooks left on his flesh is stitched closed once more, Dwight thanked his fellow Survivor, and started to walk and avoid them. As patient as she can be, Claudette is finally having none of it, walking to their leader and giving him a sterner look than usual.

"Dwight, what's wrong? You're not your usual self lately. There are only thirteen of us so far in this mess and we need to look out for each other. What’s bothering you?"

The nervous leader could only look at her with soft eyes; she is like an older sister to him, someone who lets him speak and listens to him when everyone else is talking over him in the camp site. Perhaps he can trust her. Dwight confesses everything about his predicament with Anna, earning him a few surprised, slack-jawed expressions along the way. As he progressed into the story, her frown deepens, then he mentions meeting her again in the forest.

Claudette sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “What have you gotten into?” she asks with exasperation. “Dwight, I normally trust your decisions but I doubt that's a good idea."

"I know! This is absolutely crazy, I know. But Claudette, please. This might be our ticket way out of here," Dwight explains. "If we could befriend even just one killer, maybe we'd have a bigger chance of outsmarting the Entity!"

"Maybe we do," Claudette considers. "But don't you think the entity will punish us for doing this? Punish the Huntress-“

“Anna. Her name is Anna,” the nervous leader cuts in, preferring to call her by that name to the nickname they once gave her. Though “Huntress” still suited her, he couldn’t call her that anymore, not after what she did to him before letting him escape through the hatch.

“Alright, _Anna_ ,” Claudette continues. “What if he punishes Anna? Think about it, Dwight. You might be putting her in danger."

“That's why I need to meet her again. I need to find out if she’s going to be fine," Dwight blurts, frustrated.

He had made out with some men and women before this nightmare happened, not caring about them after he had his fill of touch. Though he had made out with some of the survivors too, nothing progressed beyond it, with Dwight preferring the temporary comfort of another person’s touch than for his feelings for anyone to run deeper and hurt him more every time he sees them get hooked. Yet here he is, fearing for Anna’s safety though they only kissed once.

Fearing for a Killer’s safety? Perhaps he really is losing his mind, but he is far too curiously drawn to the mask-wearing Russian to care.

Defeated, Claudette pushes her glasses up her nose and sighs. "Okay. But please, be careful Dwight. This is all very new and we have no idea what she or the Entity might do to her, and to you." Dwight holds a thumb up as he disappeared in the forest's gloom. "I will be."

Trekking through the thick woods, Dwight cupped his hand around his mouth and started to call for her. In a reversal of roles, the prey seeks the hunter, or in this case, the Huntress.

"Anna!"

No response.

"Anna! It's me, Dwight! I'm here! You can come out now!"

Minutes in this realm seemed like hours. The bespectacled survivor, having walked a considerable distance, decided that he'll be resting for a while. Sitting at the base of a tall tree, his eyes were heavy from the lack of rest and as soon as his back leans against the trunk, they flutter shut.

An unidentified amount of time later, footsteps approached the oblivious survivor, still fast asleep.

Anna couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the sleeping squirrel.

Precariously, she approaches the sleeping man, kneeling on her haunches then placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Being the flighty fellow that he is, Dwight jumps to her touch, but relaxes when he realized who it is.

" _Belochka_. Pet."

Though slightly afraid of Anna misinterpreting what "pet" means, Dwight couldn't just bring it up at that moment. Placing his hand over her shoulders, he leans upwards, and captures her lips in his, prompting her to moan pleasantly against him. Dwight's lips were so, so soft and Anna found her eyes closing from the gesture, fire pooling at the pit of her belly. Though she never had any experiences with anyone, she knows how her body works, and there had been more than a few times when she used her own fingers to work herself to arousal.

This time, however, her little Dwight is doing it to her without even touching her in those intimate parts yet. Dwight’s heart fluttered when she gives him a soft gasp when his teeth grazed her lips, and the kiss went hungrier and sloppier from there, with him daring to slip his tongue in her mouth. The Huntress’ moans grows louder as he continues to explore her, and she begins to mimic his motions with her own tongue. So eager to experience more, Anna almost slams Dwight against the tree, pinning him against it and straddling him.

Dwight knows he lacks in sexual experience, but he’s confident that he’s heard enough good advice from the hot guys in college to have some semblance of knowledge on how to touch a woman. A woman who's almost a foot taller than him and whose shoulders are broader than his, but still a woman.

Tentatively, he runs a hand down the taller woman’s back, sliding until it reaches her rear, prompting her to break the kiss and move her mouth to his jaw, mimicking the gesture he did before he escaped through the hatch last trial. Hot breaths puffing from The Huntress’ mouth turned the Survivor’s skin a dark shade of red. Beneath her, she can feel him harden, the tell-tale bulge of his erection rubbing against her; it set a fire in her loins and it spread everywhere, down to the tips of her fingers.

Touch-starved all her life, it was almost overwhelming for Anna.

With enough force to make him choke, Anna pulls on Dwight’s tie, capturing his lips again, biting with animalistic drive. A strangled moan manages to escape the bespectacled Survivor’s throat, and his bony fingers flew to Anna’s shoulders, squeezing them with enough force for bruises to show up later, but she paid it no mind. The familiar taste of blood touches both of their tongues, and primal growls and grunts echo in the forest. Emboldened, Dwight buries his face on her neck and began to suck as his hands found its way to her chest.

Curious, Anna looks down to see what her little squirrel is doing. She is aware that the breast is for feeding the young, so why is Dwight touching them? She privately pondered if he is hungry and idly thinks that she will take him to the smokehouse one day for dinner. Then his thumbs brush against her pebbling nipples through the top of her sarafan and she regains her focus on the situation, gasping at the sensation. Any previous doubts about what he’s doing dissipated as bony fingers caressed her breasts, making her eyes flutter shut from the pleasant new sensation.

Though the forest is cold and unforgiving, the Killer felt too warm to be comfortable. In one swift motion, Anna discards her utility belt, tossing it aside in the grass. Grabbing Dwight’s hand, she motions him to help her strip her sarafan’s top off, her breasts softly bouncing as her body and the fabric shifted, and nipples pebbling in the cool night air. Anna then hurriedly strips her garments off, standing up so she can roll her pants down, and she kicks them backward. Dwight’s eyes are wide as dinner plates as she stands before him, naked and pale in the cold moonlight.

A playful smirk blooms on Anna’s lips as she observed his slack-jawed reaction, the stump between his loins raging against the fabric of his slacks. The bespectacled survivor couldn’t help but stare; her body is hard muscle from the hard life she endured before The Entity dragged her to his nightmare realm, a strong contrast to his lanky frame. A mixture of fear and arousal creeps through Dwight’s psyche. God, she can crush him and he’d love every second of it.

Standing tall before him, the angle Dwight is looking from made Anna’s shoulders look more intimidating than ever, her deltoids nice and firm, perfect for grabbing when she takes him. Dwight’s owlish eyes trails to her breasts, heaving and firm due to the toned muscles underneath, then to her waist, thick and sturdy like the rest of her, then her fleshy hips, to the thick patch of dark hair covering her most intimate parts, and down to her legs that run for miles. After taking the sight of her in, Dwight brings his attention back to her face, and felt his face grow several degrees hotter from the smile she’s giving him.

“Tsk, too much staring. Too little touching,” she drawls, mouth curling into a devious grin.

Swallowing thickly, Dwight loosens his tie and a few buttons on his shirt. “Come here.”

And Anna complies, kneeling again and straddling the Survivor. Kissing her again, Dwight cups her jaw, bucking his hips upward and earning him a gasp as he brushed against her through the fabric of his slacks.

“I’ll show you what I can do.”


	6. Hers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the point of no return.

Anna’s grin grows wider at her _belochka_ ’s emboldened words.

“Oh? Let us see,” Anna purrs, ruffling Dwight’s dark hair playfully.

The little squirrel promptly goes back to suckling on her neck. Anna recalls a conversation with The Doctor, Herman, where he described Dwight as “the fellow who looks like a pediatric patient with an oral fixation”. Confused with the scientific terms he used, she asks him to explain it to her, and Herman tells her that he simply meant that the lanky survivor is baby-faced and can’t stop using his mouth, citing his nail-biting habit and his tendency to become mouthier than the other Survivors.

As her little squirrel placed a peck on her neck, then to her chest, Anna thought to herself that perhaps Herman has a point. When his hot mouth latches onto her nipple, she quickly changed her mind and thought that Herman is completely correct. However, all thoughts were cast aside when Dwight swirls his tongue around her hardened nub, making her curl her fingers around tufts of his hair.

“Good,” Anna sighs, petting her dear squirrel’s hair and holding him closer to her bosom. “Very good.” Dwight smiles against her skin, pleased with himself for having a good start.

Experimentally, Dwight brushes his hand down the thick bush of hair down below, slender fingers seeking that elusive nub between a woman’s folds. Thick eyebrows furrowing, Anna senses her pet’s frustration, and she chuckles as she takes the lead, and soon enough, Dwight’s fingers are in the right place.

All they do is fumble, unfortunately. The motions he made are nowhere near pleasant. Disappointed, Anna huffs, though she still wants to continue this. “Doing it wrong,” Anna reprimands him, and Dwight sheepishly stops and his mouth leaves her nipple so he can speak. “I, uh, can you show me how you do it?”

Anna is more than happy to show him and she turns around to look for the skirt of her sarafan. Bending over to lay it in the grass, she gives the Survivor a _stunning_ view of her rear, and her glistening womanhood. Feng Min can’t blame Dwight for staring; they looked shapely with her clothes on, and without them, the Survivor can barely contain his excitement. Reaching forward, he gives her rump a firm squeeze, making her elicit a small squeal.

Playfully swatting his hand, Anna laughs as she sat on their makeshift bedding. “Naughty _belochka_ ,” the Russian teases, pulling him by the tie. “S-sorry. I can’t help it,” the lanky Survivor mumbles with a coy smile on his face.

Oh, he is adorable. Anna wants to crush him in her arms.

“Be good boy, and watch,” the Killer purrs, spreading her legs for him and sliding her fingers between her folds. Heart jumping to his throat at the prospect of being called a good boy, Dwight nods vigorously, his eyes wide as he watched Anna touch herself in front of him. Watching in an almost hypnotized state, Dwight watches as Anna’s middle finger brush against her entrance to gather lubrication, before she brings it up to her clitoris and starts to swirl it around, rub it back and forth, then swirl it around again, while her free hand goes to cup her breast and fondle her nipples.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Dwight unzips his pants so he can relieve himself of the pressure on his straining member, rubbing himself through his underwear. Anna understood this as a gesture that signifies his growing arousal, and she gives him a cheeky smirk. “Like what you see?”

Dwight nods vigorously.

“Come here and touch.”

Obediently, her _belochka_ complies, and his lanky fingers find its way to her folds, replacing her hand. Applying what he learned from watching her, he leans over and began fondling and rubbing gently, making her relax and sigh in pleasure. The Survivor makes himself comfortable beside her, then he leans in more and sucks on her breast once more, making Anna toss her head back, eyes shutting and a shaky exhale escaping her lips. With one arm supporting her weight, the other grabs the back of his shirt to brace herself.

“Good, so good,” she sighs. “You learn fast, _belochka_.”

Anna chuckles when she feels him smile against her breast once more.

Dwight kisses her passionately, tongues tasting one another, then he nips at her collarbone, making Anna hum in appreciation, and a trail of kisses went down her body until his mouth is mere inches away from her folds, warm puffs of breath tickling her.

An idea pops into Dwight’s head and he stops his ministrations. This earns him a dirty look, but he continues to smile. Curiously tilting her head, Anna lets go of Dwight’s shirt.

“Anna, I want to try something,” he tells her, shifting positions so now she’s on top of him, and he’s lying on his back on the sarafan. “Do you trust me?”

“ _Da_ ,” Anna responds, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his face. “What do you want to do?” she asks him, continuing to pet his hair with endearment. “Sit on my face,” Dwight asks of her, emboldened all of a sudden. Though Anna is confused by the request, she obliges, straddling Dwight’s face and lowering her hips against his face. Dwight adjusts himself so that Anna’s glistening sex is directly above his lips. Leaning forward to take a closer look, Anna questions him.

“ _Belochka_ , what are you- _mmm_!”

The moment Dwight’s tongue touches her arousal, Anna throws her head back and cries in pleasure, the sound echoing through the forest. Fucking her entrance with his tongue and whimpering, Dwight’s face is soon a hot, wet mess covered in her juices. In just a few minutes, she’s already a writhing mess as her little Dwight continues to lap her up like a hungry hound. Foreign words came out of her mouth, and though the language is not his, Dwight can understand what Anna is trying to say perfectly as she moans a litany of praise for his ministrations. “ _More. Give me more, my little squirrel._ ”

A sigh escapes Anna’s lips as Dwight does exactly that. “ _Mmmm, never stop,_ ” she moans as he shifts his attention to the sensitive bundle of nerves. A lanky hand reaches up to squeeze her breast and play with her nipple as his soft lips pursed around the Killer’s swollen nub. Soon enough, Anna is grinding her hips against his mouth, orgasm seizing her. A long, throaty moan escapes Anna’s throat and by the Entity, her voice is music to Dwight’s ears. Though overwhelmed by the reaction Anna’s body is giving him, Dwight does his best to remain composed, and lets her ride out her orgasm.

“ _Good little squirrel,_ ” Anna sighs. “Good boy.”

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or Anna is really exhausted from the intensity of her release, but all it took were those words for Dwight to flip her over, surprised by his own strength. Still breathing heavily, Anna watched him as he shrugged off his dress shirt with haste, some of the buttons flying off. Reaching for the swollen stump of flesh between his legs, Anna gave it a tentative squeeze, and the squirrelly man sighs with licentious need. Encouraged by his reaction, Anna helps him ease out of his slacks, pulling his underwear on its way down. Tie still looped around his neck, Dwight tries to fumble with the knot, but Anna takes his long, skinny hands in hers and moves both of them to her hips.

“ _Keep it on_ ,” she commands. Nodding, Dwight gives her a squeeze and nips at her lower lip. “Good boy,” the Huntress moans against him, and he feels his member pulse with anticipation. A large hand reaches for that stump of flesh, and the Survivor’s heart jumps to his throat at her iron grip. “I-I’ll show you how to touch it,” he breathes, taking himself in his hand when the Russian woman lets go.

Watching intently, Anna’s eyes are fixated on Dwight’s strokes, his thumb swiping a bead of precum from the head of his penis. “Let me try,” Anna demands, and Dwight allows her to touch him again. Her palm is rough, but it only added a delicious friction to her strokes. At that point, Dwight’s face is flushed and sweaty, glasses fogging from the heavy breaths that come out as clouds due to the forest’s coldness. Though the temperature is biting, all both of them can feel is heat.

Kneeling on all fours and grinding her shapely behind against him, Anna looks over her shoulder, an amused smirk on her lips when she sees that Dwight’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “ _Mount me_.”

Dwight happily obliges.

When his manhood rests against her buttocks, however, Dwight felt himself slightly falter due to their difference in size. Like his own physique, Dwight’s member looks long and skinny; the girth is decent and his length is slightly above average, but will it even matter to this giantess?

All of his hesitation is cast aside when Anna persistently ground herself against him and pulls him by his tie, making him choke as his body gets pressed flat against the taller woman’s back. “F-fuck, okay. Here I go,” the Survivor stutters as he guides his manhood inside of her, easing in inch by inch.

A sharp cry bubbles from Anna’s throat, not used to the pressure and feel of Dwight inside of her. How such a small man can make her feel so full eludes her. A tear almost escapes Dwight’s eye because of the molten heat her core emanates; no heat ever felt this good before. Losing any semblance of hesitation, the Survivor ruts against her as his willowy hands grip and squeeze Anna’s hips and ass with unspeakable need, groaning with desire.

Every thrust hurt, but Anna wants to continue, sucking in a pained moan and letting her little squirrel hump and handle her with no restraint. Soon enough, her body adjusts, and the pounding started to feel better. Hell, to say that it felt better is an understatement; Anna felt pure bliss as Dwight continued to pump himself inside her abused hole, her nails digging into the dirt. Bony hips bruised her skin, but the Huntress didn’t care at all. As the thrusts grew harder, Dwight is groaning and growling against her nape, hands roaming her body then choosing to settle at her breasts.

When the lanky man moved her veil aside and bit hard at the back of her neck, a stroke of fear grasps at Anna’s heart. She thought of herself as prey, helpless and at the mercy of her captor, but the pleasure is far too blinding for her to mind.

“O-oh Anna,” she hears him whisper, his mouth hot and wet against her ear. He nips at her ear too. So close to release, the Russian woman pulls at the bespectacled Survivor’s tie again, urging him closer.

“ _Keep going!_ ” Anna cries as Dwight repeatedly nails that delicious spot inside of her that even her fingers cannot reach. Nearing his limit, Dwight tries his hardest to contain his release, wanting to make the Killer come one more time before this is over. Lanky fingers reach forward to stroke the Russian’s swollen nub as he continued his punishing pace, and it was enough to send the Huntress screaming and crying from the immense pleasure her release brought.

In between panting breaths, Anna cries Dwight’s name over and over, like a prayer desperate to be heard, a litany of praise and thanks for the way he made her feel tonight.

“Good boy,” Anna hoarsely whispers.

Dwight’s heart swelled with pride hearing those two words again, pushing him to his release, hot seed spilling inside Anna’s molten heat and earning him a few surprised gasps. As Dwight collapses against her back, Anna rests as well, lying prone on the sarafan’s skirt. She rolls over, face flushed and damp with sweat, and gives Dwight one more kiss, eager to taste him again.

“Anna,” the Survivor pants, glasses sliding down his nose from the sweat on his face. “You’re so amazing.”

All Anna could do is pull him into an embrace, his chin resting against her shoulder.

Dwight is completely hers now.


End file.
